


Blood of the Covenant

by alainey



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Gen, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24932101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alainey/pseuds/alainey
Summary: Katarina stalks her way through the desolate halls of the Du Couteau manor, the sharp clack of her boots echoing faintly through the corridor. The low light from the rising sun filters its way into the manor through the tiny, arcing windows that rest upon the upper sections of the wall, and Katarina’s feet land metered between the slivers of light that span the floor.Her breathing is quiet, just as measured as her steps, and by the time she gets to her quarters, her hiked up adrenaline levels have finally settled. She pushes open the door to her room with a soft sigh, eyelids heavy, and barely manages to stifle a yawn.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Blood of the Covenant

Katarina stalks her way through the desolate halls of the Du Couteau manor, the sharp clack of her boots echoing faintly through the corridor. The low light from the rising sun filters its way into the manor through the tiny, arcing windows that rest upon the upper sections of the wall, and Katarina’s feet land metered between the slivers of light that span the floor.

Her breathing is quiet, just as measured as her steps, and by the time she gets to her quarters, her hiked up adrenaline levels have finally settled. She pushes open the door to her room with a soft sigh, eyelids heavy, and barely manages to stifle a yawn.

“Unsuccessful night?” comes a low voice from the center of her room, and Katarina glances up - a guarded, exasperated glance - before stepping heavily across the threshold of her own room. Her sister waves lazily from her position on Katarina’s couch, bright scales glinting a verdant green under the light of the early morning sun.

“Eh, not really.” Katarina shrugs, her grin sharp as she removes her coat. Cassiopea tuts as she flings the bloody article into a to-be-forgotten corner of her room, and Katarina smirks at her. “My room, my rules, remember?”

Cassiopeia waves away the self satisfied words with one perfectly manicured hand - tutting softly under her breath - and Katarina rolls her eyes. Pissy, predictable noble woman. They’ve been meeting in Katarina’s room for months now, yet Cassiopeia’s nagging still hasn’t let up. Katarina had hoped she’d eventually grow tired of it - would accept that Katarina simply doesn’t care about the state of her room - and yet, here they were, time and time again. 

“Don’t think I don’t know that,” Cassiopeia mutters lowly to her, mouth drawn into a line and eyes still trained on the bloody jacket. Her gaze snaps back to Katarina’s after a moment of contemplative silence, and she gestures absently to the table in front of her. “Well, successful night or not; the two of you were taking so long to get back that I took the initiative to make us all tea. Terribly gracious of me, no?” 

Katarina snorts, glancing down at the flat mahogany table that sits before her sister. Three cups of tea steam happily from their place in the center of the table, and a small plate of delicately iced cookies - cookies that Katarina had not, in fact, noticed on her way in - rests prettily beside them. The tea doesn’t appear to have been sitting there for long, yet one of the cups - presumably Cassiopeia’s - is already half empty. 

“Whatever did I do to get such a caring sister,” Katarina says, grinning, and saunters her way over to the table. As she walks, she makes a show of discarding her various blades and belts onto the floor, and revels in the look that Cassiopeia gives her when some of her sheathed blades clatter against the far right wall in a mess of metal and leather. 

“You’re a heathen,” mutters Cassiopeia, her expression downright distasteful, and Katarina huffs out a laugh as she tosses away one more of her sheathed blades. “Honestly,” she continues dryly, picking up teacup with a final disgusted glance once Katarina reaches the table, “every time I visit you I’m reminded why we don’t meet in my room.” 

Katarina grins sharply, reaching for her own teacup with a decided lack of delicacy. “You act like that isn’t exactly why I do this,” she replies, and laughs away Cassiopeia’s resulting scowl. “But yes, whatever, fine - thank you anyway, for making us tea.” 

Her sister hums in acknowledgement, the noise a rhythmic, hissing purr. Katarina’s tea is earthy - warm down her throat - and drinking it brings a feeling of calm that spreads steadily through her bones. Katarina sets the teacup down after a few more careful sips - reveling in light burn against her tongue - before pacing to the back of her room to lay down the rest of her blades in a slightly neater pile. She’ll take care of the discarded ones properly later.

Katarina makes a thoughtful noise, taking care to inspect one of her favorite daggers before setting it off to the side for later sharpening. “It actually was a pretty successful night -” Katarina says then, heady pride making her voice lilt upwards, “it just took a lot longer than I’d expected.” Cassiopeia makes a noise from the settee, a noise something like understanding, and Katarina rubs briefly at her eyes and stifles another yawn. “Successful, but annoyingly long; my mark decided to lead me on quite a lengthy chase.”

Cassiopeia makes a sudden noise that’s more like a snort than anything else, poking her head up from behind the backrest of the couch. “That sounds like fun to me,” she says, all toothy smile and scaled tail curling up and over the armrest. “I wish mine would do that more often.”

Katarina grimaces at the thought, slowly and methodically pulling her final few blades from their hiding places and resting them upon her desk. “It’s cowardly to run,” Katarina states, flippant, “not to mention useless.” She pauses, smirk teasing at the edge of her mouth. “And I’ll have you know that I don’t revel in _playing with my food_ … unlike certain others I know.”

Her sister laughs at that, yellow eyes blinking innocently from behind the couch. She looks back at the discarded belts, blades, and leather straps that litter Katarina’s floor, before making a show of eyeing the blood that still covers Katarina’s person. Her tongue flicks out to taste the air. “No, you’d rather make a show of it, wouldn’t you?” she asks finally, eyebrows raised, and Katarina just smiles and shrugs.

“They get the message better that way.”

Katarina’s just starting to remove her boots when three sharp raps come from the double windows that rest against Katarina’s far left wall. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as Cassiopeia flops heavily back down onto the couch.

“You get him,” Cassiopeia says, nearly immediately afterwards. Her voice is slightly muffled from her place among the pillows. 

“What? This is my room -” Katarina starts, by way of reply, and Cassiopeia cuts back in with a quick hiss.

“Yes,” she says, slowly, “but you’re already standing up.” Her voice drifts lazily from her place on Katarina’s couch, and Katarina knows without a doubt that her sister is grinning. The tip of her tail flicks once against the backrest as she continues, sweetly, “and anyway, I’m… comfortable.”

Katarina’s eyes are threatening to roll themselves out of their sockets by the time she’s fully finished unclasping the straps on her boots. “Don’t think I won’t kick you out,” she warns as she straightens, back cracking in the process, and Cassiopeia huffs out another laugh.

“I’d love to see you try,” her sister eventually replies, heavy tail thumping once more against the seat of the couch.

Katarina’s about to spit out another snide reply, but there are three more raps at the window: harder this time. Katarina grinds her teeth - impatient son of a bitch. She shuffles off her boots then takes them in hand, making her way to the far wall where her brother’s hooded head peaks just so over the edge of the windowsill. The early morning sun is creeping steadily over the horizon of city-smogged Noxus, and the light of the new dawn filters gently around his cloaked head before seeping into Katarina’s bedroom. 

Katarina looks down at her bloodied boots once, before throwing them back - behind her _just so_ \- at Cassiopeia’s lounging figure. Just as her sister begins her predictable outraged hissy fit, Katarina throws open the windows with just enough of a flourish to very nearly hit Talon in the head. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she drawls, watching him scramble for purchase along the side of the manor. She dutifully ignores the affronted sounds still coming from her sofa and smirks down at Talon’s ever-scowling face. 

“Took you long enough,” he grunts, pulling himself up and over the stone windowsill as soon as Katarina steps aside. 

“Blood, dirt, and _grime_ ,” they hear Cassiopeia curse from the center of the room, and Katarina turns to find her chucking the offending boots over the couch and onto Katarina’s mussed up bed. Katarina snorts, uncaring, and looks back to find Talon glancing between the two of them with amused curiosity. 

Katarina shrugs in response to his silent question, and he lets out an exasperated breath before sweeping his gaze back to Cassiopeia and then finally down to the teacup laden table. “Ah,” he says then, failing to conceal his small resulting smile, and walks over to where Cassiopeia sits, shamelessly shrugging his coat off and onto Katarina’s floor as he does. “Thank you for the tea,” he murmurs, and Cassiopeia just sighs - clearly done with the both of them. Talon picks up his cup, breathing in the heat, before settling into one of Katarina’s smaller, less gaudy recliners - the one she keeps around for him. He sits, body held taut, and though he looks grateful for the reprieve, there’s a stiffness about him that Katarina only barely registers. And, by the way his expression tightens when he looks back at her, Katarina knows that his night has been just as long as hers.

Katarina slips into her own chair after retrieving her teacup, lifting her feet up to rest upon the center table just as Cassiopeia starts to speak. “Seems I’m the only one who got off lightly last night, hm?” her sisters says, voice light despite the weight of her gaze. Her eyes are intent, careful in their searching of her brother’s face, and Talon huffs under the scrutiny, drinking from his teacup with a careful frown. 

“You could say that,” he replies, somewhat evasively, and moves to look steadily out the window from which he came though. Cassiopeia turns to meet Katarina’s gaze over the edge of her teacup - thin eyebrows raised. The two of them wait - patient, now, when it comes to their brother - and when Talon finally turns back to them, his expression is raw with emotion. “I think I’ve finally got a lead.”

Cassiopeia’s breath catches, and Katarina’s blood surges with something akin to dread. The feeling is immediately replaced with an odd, hopeful excitement that Katarina can only pray doesn’t show up on her face - it’s hard enough to keep face around her siblings nowadays, what with them meeting so often. 

“I've confirmed that a foreign assassin's guild was keeping tabs on the General before his disappearance. They'll have more information than our own, or - if nothing else - different information. I’ll be leaving for Ionia within the next couple days, and I’ll return as soon as possible thereafter -” Talon’s words are blunt, and he looks as though he might be trying to control any further traces of emotion from making their way onto his face. And yet, when he makes eye contact with Katarina, it’s his eyes that give everything else away. There’s honesty there - vulnerability - and it’s the type reserved only for them. 

The table is silent after Talon speaks, the low sound of their breathing the only noise in the room. It’s Cassiopeia that speaks first, and when she does, her words are hesitant. “Do you… think him still alive, then?” Her expression is complicated - more so than Talon’s - and Katarina can sense a layer of apprehension within it, a feeling that stirs quietly underneath her sister’s outwardly pleasant demeanor.

Talon shrugs, lower lip caught uncharacteristically between his teeth. “Maybe,” he replies. “Hopefully.”

Katarina scoffs, and Talon turns to her, narrowing his eyes at the noise. “Hope will have had nothing to do with it, if he is,” she says, and Cassiopeia looks at her too, then, placing her teacup onto the table with a sharp _click_ that cuts through the resulting silence of her words. Katarina knows her siblings agree with her - their father is skilled, and could surely have survived anything through wits alone - yet her tone is off putting, and she knows it sets Talon on edge.

Cassiopeia looks about to speak - perhaps about to reproach her - yet Katarina cuts her off, voice suddenly snide. “Oh, don’t even start, we both know you never cared for him either -” she states, and Cassiopeia looks back at her, affronted. “Not as much as you cared for mother, anyway.”

Cassiopeia’s expression goes dark, then, yet she doesn’t deny the truth of Katarina’s words. Talon, from the other side of the table, stares silently at the two of them: his expression absent and conflicted. It’s obvious that their words are unsurprising to him - he likely expected such an argument to be brought up when he first moved to speak. And Katarina isn’t terribly surprised either; quarrels have always been more common around her, whenever the General is involved. 

“And regardless,” Katarina continues, voice hard as she stares at the other woman, “whether or not the General lives is inconsequential. House Du Couteau will continue to stand proud - with, or without him.” It’s a statement of fact, incontestable in Katarina’s mind. The three of them are strong, stronger than any one man - be it General Du Couteau or not - could possibly stand on his own. Cassiopeia’s face softens slightly at the words - also accepting them as fact - and Katarina is happy to note that Talon, too, visibly relaxes at the statement. The three of them are prideful - no less than they were before their father’s disappearance - and there’s no doubt in her mind that they are the reason that House Du Couteau still remains in as much power as it does today. 

“House Du Couteau,” Katarina repeats, “will continue to stand strong -”

“Just as it always has,” Cassiopeia finishes for her, quietly, and unbidden memories - of their childhood, of their mother, of their father - swim through Katarina’s mind. Talon looks down at his feet, and Katarina wonders if she’s ever seen her brother’s face look so soft.

Light spills through the winding streets of the Immortal Bastion, breaching the mighty stone walls and permeating the sprawl of the city. The three of them sit together - quiet and comfortable and contemplative under the light of the rising sun - and prepare to begin a new day. Talon is distracted - preoccupied with his own thoughts - but the three of them settle into a steady rhythm of conversation that lasts until the sun reaches its peak and their respective exhaustions finally take their toll. 

Three teacups sit empty on her table as Katarina slowly bids her body sleep, and she resolves to have someone else deal with them - ‘someone else’ likely being Talon - come the eventual nightfall and the start of their next evening’s work. After all, her brother would be leaving soon, and she’d best make the most of his presence while she has him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a piece I wrote mid-2019 for Legends of the Rift 2, a zine hosted by [@leagueofzines](https://twitter.com/leagueofzines) over on twitter! It was super hard to stay under word limit (I had a lot more that I planned to write/interactions I wanted to fit in), but I'm still pretty happy with the result. My writing has changed a surprising amount since then, and it's fun to see how much my style has evolved. Notably, I try to use significantly fewer dashes now, lol.
> 
> Title comes from the saying "blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb," which I think is pretty tongue in cheek for these three. Also fun fact: the title of my google doc while writing this was "Du Couteau Siblings (need more lore)" and I'm excited to say that fact still hasn't changed! Riot - please give them more love (and know that I'm happy to give y'all some undercover money to make it happen, just hmu).
> 
> Thanks for reading, and you can find me [@alainey_lee](https://twitter.com/alainey_lee), as always!


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